Expanded Scene: The Kill
by blackangus
Summary: This is an expanded scene from "The Kill" (S1 EP1). Oftentimes we wonder what else might be happening between or during the scenes we see on-screen or what might be going through the minds of the characters. That's where our imagination takes over. This story includes some narration from Pete's point of view because the original episode included such.


**I don't own any of the original characters and make no monetary profit from this story. My profit consists of the fun I have with Peter Gunn and Edie Hart.**

_This is an expanded scene from "The Kill" (S1 EP1). Oftentimes we wonder what else might be happening between or during the scenes we see on-screen. Or what might be going through the minds of the characters when the action is taking place. That's where our imagination takes over. This story includes some narration from Pete's point of view because the original episode included such. And because I like it. Being acquainted with the episode will bring more sense to the story but it is readable as a standalone._

**Expanded Scene: The Kill**

_Waiting is always the hardest part, especially when it involves someone you care about. I've known Mother a long time so when Edie called to let me know she'd be okay it was harder than I thought it would be to hide my relief from Dave Green. But I guess I was successful, maybe more than I imagined, because Green's face took on a look of terror I still find difficult to describe. The fact that no one had died as a result of the explosion at Mother's didn't mean there wasn't still a score to settle with George Fallon. I had threatened Green that if Mother died so would he. He could just continue to fear the worst for a while longer._

The silence on the other end of the line gave Edie Hart pause for a moment. But surely it had to be Pete who had picked up the receiver at Mother's after two long rings. He'd told her that's where he would be – had called from his car phone roughly an hour and a half ago to relay that information to her – and that she was to call him there the moment she received word on the older woman's condition. So even though he hadn't answered the phone with his normal abrupt hello, it had to be him.

"Pete... Mother's going to be all right."

She waited for a response, for the sound of his voice, for the reassuring knowledge that though he might not be there keeping vigil with her in the small hospital waiting room, he was still somewhere close. A concerned frown colored her eyes when nothing other than continued silence met her words.

"Pete?"

The decisive click that interrupted the low hum of the open line as Peter Gunn hung up the phone was her only answer. She instinctively held the receiver of the hospital pay phone to her ear for a few long seconds before slowly replacing it, her concern turning to worry. Pete had never hung up on her before, though she had to admit there had undoubtedly been times the temptation had been there. Something must be wrong. Pete was either in trouble or he was making his own kind of trouble. Following a moment's hesitation she dug another dime from the pocket of her coat that was still lying over the back of the waiting room couch, reached to pick up the receiver again and quickly dialed the operator.

"Can you please connect me with the police?... Thirteenth Precinct."

* * *

Lieutenant Jacoby ran a tired hand along his balding head and glared with disgust at the black telephone that occupied the top left-hand corner of his desk. With an aggravated sigh he tossed his pencil aside and snatched up the receiver before it gave a third ring.

"What is it _now_, Murphy?" the policeman asked with exaggerated politeness. "Who–? Oh, okay, thanks Murphy. And Murphy? Exactly what part of do not disturb do you not understand? …Well that's just fine, Murphy. In the future I will be sure to give you a detailed list of who that includes and who it does not include."

With tender care Jacoby replaced the receiver, effectively ending the conversation with his sergeant, took a sip from his coffee cup and made a face at its stale bitterness, then with practiced patience took the receiver back up and pushed a button on the telephone.

"Hi, Edie."

He leaned back, fingers tapping the top of his desk as he swiveled his chair sideways to stare out the window, thinking that Edie Hart had never telephoned his office before and finding it especially odd that she was doing so now considering their brief exchange at the hospital several hours earlier. He hoped it didn't become a habit for every occasion Pete had a personal stake in a case. It wasn't that he didn't like her, but in his job as a cop he'd found that separating business from personal where work was concerned made life a whole lot easier.

"How's Mother?"

"_She's going to be fine. I was allowed in to see her a few minutes ago."_ She paused and Jacoby had a brief moment to wonder whether he was supposed to respond but then she continued. _"They set her left arm and put it in a cast. She'll have to wear it in a sling for about a month. The doctor said she should be able to go home by Wednesday but she'll have to take it easy for a few weeks."_

"That's good to hear." Jacoby reached for his coffee, downed another acrid mouthful and set the empty cup aside. "What can I do for you, Edie?" Blunt and to the point.

"_I'm worried about Pete."_

"Pete's a big boy, he can take care of himself." He said that but in this case there was a little niggle at the back of his mind asking him if he actually believed it.

"_He's at Mother's." _

Something in the woman's voice when she spoke those few words had the policeman sitting up straight and paying closer attention. But if there was anything else Edie Hart might be thinking of saying, she didn't. He spun slowly around to face his desk, images of George Fallon, fake cops and an angry Pete Gunn waltzing through his mind in three-four time. He'd tried to keep track of the PI for the past several hours but his friend had been keeping a low profile. Or at least that's what he'd thought. Maybe Pete wasn't so much flying under the radar as following a deliberate plan.

"Oh really," Jacoby posited in his soft voice, his tone coated with sarcasm. "It was nice of Mr. Gunn to keep _someone_ informed of his whereabouts." He gave a sigh and pushed himself to his feet, walking around his desk and reaching to open the office door even as he ended the conversation. "I'll head on over and find out what's going on." He hung up the receiver without waiting for a response, thoughtfully pulled down his rolled-up shirt sleeves and buttoned them, shrugged into his dark brown suit jacket and grabbed his hat. He told Sergeant Davis to have a second patrol car meet him out front.

* * *

Edie leaned forward and handed the cabbie a five dollar bill, giving him a smile as he turned halfway around to thank her, protesting at the amount as she twisted the handle and pushed open the back door of the yellow City Cab. She shook her head, thanking him for the speedy ride to Mother's, quickly pulled her keys from her coat pocket and slipped through the door with the big square lettering 'Employees Only'. The cabbie, a nice fellow named Jimmy Dooley who Edie was acquainted with as one of the regulars who worked the club district, had been hesitant about letting her out at Mother's. News of the explosion at the club had traveled fast and many of the business owners along the waterfront were leery of rumors about George Fallon and his protection racket. A little white lie that Pete was expecting her had him reluctantly agreeing to drive her to the River Street address. Edie could feel his eyes watching her until the heavy side door of the club fell shut behind her.

She hadn't felt comfortable at the way the phone call with Lieutenant Jacoby ended, she didn't know him well enough to sense the subtleties of his personality, to understand the intent behind his words. The crux of it all was she was worried about Pete. And it didn't make her feel any better that when she arrived at Mother's a police car was nowhere in the vicinity. Edie stepped through an opening that used to hold a door, the hinges now dangling uselessly. The inside of the club was swathed in eerie darkness, a strange odor lingering in the air that must be an aftereffect of the dynamite Jacoby said caused the explosion. Why would Pete not have the lights on? A concerned frown furrowed her brow as she took another step forward. He was there at the bar, almost blending in with the gloom of his surroundings.

"Pete?" The woman's eyes betrayed the same uneasiness she'd felt earlier when he'd kept his silence on the telephone.

The PI turned abruptly at the sound of Edie's worried voice, barely having time to take in the sight of her standing there in her cream-colored coat, the white dress with the light blue stripes that she'd exchanged for the black one he'd admired in the wee hours of last night peeking out from beneath it. He felt the hard impact of the whiskey bottle against the back of his head even as he registered her presence. Some innate knowledge told him Dave Green was going to take a swing at him, the way the hairs stood up on the back of his neck warned him he'd made a mistake the moment he turned his back on the other man upon hearing the sound of his name trip solicitously from Edie's tongue.

The force of the blow sent Pete to the floor, momentarily stunned, as Green rushed to the front door and out into the muggy night, screaming to whoever might be out there that it was all a frame, that he'd been forced to call Fallon. Seconds later the sound of gunfire interrupted the placid early morning on River Street, a dozen shots in rapid succession. Even in his dazed state Pete could tell they came from two separate weapons. Green had been right, as Pete had known he would be. Fallon had remained distant from the action, sending his two fake cops to take care of business instead. Moments passed, the echo of car doors slamming and the revolving glow of a red light against the curtained windows offering up evidence the thugs had shown up in their homemade police car. Then a siren and the noise of other cars and another barrage of shots. And silence.

Pete rubbed the back of his neck as he sat on the hard floor, slumped against the bar, and glanced at the woman kneeling in front of him. Why hadn't he heard her come in? Even though she'd entered through the back door, the unnatural silence blanketing the building magnified any little noise. Had his mind been so wrapped around settling the score with Fallon that someone could sneak up on him without the normal warning bells going off in his head?

"You picked a fine time," he ground out and then looked away, his unhappiness with her sudden appearance very obvious. But inside, hidden beneath the irritation, fear warred with his other emotions. What was she doing here? She had to have realized his plans even without him spelling them out for her, to have known it was a dangerous idea to come looking for him at Mother's. He should never have called her, should never have told her where he'd be. He'd have to remember that in the future he concluded, giving an inward sigh. But even with that knowledge it thrilled him that she'd worried about him and had come looking for him.

"I get bugged when people hang up on me." Edie's tone was almost apologetic. Almost.

The PI glanced up again, his hand stilling against the little knot that was raising on the back of his head. He found himself wanting to roll his eyes at the woman's comment but again dropped his gaze instead.

"I told Lieutenant Jacoby where you were."

This time when he looked up his eyes held hers. He got to his knees, carefully brushing aside the shards of glass littering the floor beside him, and felt her hand on his arm as they both got to their feet. Her fingers went to the back of his neck and he winced when she ran them along his head and lingered momentarily on a tender spot. He reached to retrieve his revolver from the floor then was urging her carefully through the scattered debris and out the front door, left open wide by Dave Green, who was lying face down against the curb across the rain-dampened street. Several police cars, flashing roof-lights eerily lighting up doorways and alleys, occupied the corner where River Street met Bridge Street, the fake black-and-white between them, Jacoby and his men picking up the pieces and being quickly surrounded by the few wandering souls out at this time of the morning. There was nothing better than criminal mayhem to draw curious onlookers.

"Stay here."

Keeping one eye on Edie and the other on the action up the street, the PI quickly crossed to the curb and knelt beside Green, feeling for a pulse he was fairly certain wasn't there. He rocked back on his heels and stared at the man's body for several long seconds then straightened with a sigh, turning to find Jacoby standing next to him. The cop glanced at Edie where she stood watching them from across the street, hands in the big pockets of her coat, the lights and shadows playing with her expression, then looked down at Dave Green's bloodied body.

"Are you all right, Pete?" He raised his head to gaze at his friend.

"Fine. Just fine," the PI answered, pushing aside his jacket and returning his .38 to the holster attached to his belt. The muscle working in his jaw and the acerbic tone of his words said something different. He hadn't been looking to get Green killed. He just wanted to get Fallon and the men who were responsible for setting the blast at Mother's. Pete's gaze turned to the activity up the street. "What about those two?"

One was dead, Jacoby told him. The other they might get something out of after he was patched up and booked into jail. Time would tell. He'd need a statement from Pete, the sooner the better, but in the meantime, since he'd been notified by Traffic that Pete's car was parked around the corner from the Elite Health Club – in front of which the PI had hijacked Dave Green, but Pete figured that bit of information could wait for his official statement – he'd be happy to drop him and Edie there or send a couple men to pick it up.

"Thanks, Lieutenant. But I think I could use some fresh air and a walk."

He felt the cop's eyes following him as he walked slowly back across the street. Upon receiving assurance from Edie that her shoes were comfortable for walking – just the seven blocks to the Daybreak Cafe on Canal Street, which was open twenty-four hours, and not all the way to the Elite Health Club – the PI made certain the door of the club was secured. He gave a nod to Jacoby and took Edie's hand, guiding her up the sidewalk in the opposite direction from where all the excitement had taken place.

* * *

_I hadn't been in the mood for a ride in Jacoby's squad car and I wasn't interested in anything at the cafe besides a cup of strong coffee. I suppose I just needed to clear my head. Edie and I sat for a while at a corner table near a back window, exchanging a few words now and then but silent for the most part. There were times when simply being in the presence of the person you loved was enough to calm the weary soul – something I was beginning to realize more and more as time went by. I'd learned some things this night. About people. About myself._

The PI eventually stirred from a strange sense of melancholy and ordered breakfast for himself and Edie. Afterwards they split between them a thick slice of Dutch apple pie fresh out of the oven, content in the comfortable silence of each other's company as they watched the golden rays of dawn sweep across the early morning sky. After the waitress stopped by with the offer of a third refill – he wouldn't have minded something stronger but coffee would do for the time being – Pete called a cab from the cafe pay phone and had the cabbie take them to the corner of Twelfth and Culver where he'd left his car. A parking ticket had been slipped beneath the wiper on the driver's side. The imperfect end to an imperfect night.

Edie pushed open her apartment door, removing the key from the lock as Pete hovered behind her on the landing. He followed her in and shut the door with a click. She reached to turn on the lights but before her hand could find the wall switch the PI had her backed against the door, his lips covering hers in a hard kiss.

"Don't ever do that again." His voice was rough when they finally came up for air.

"What? Kiss you?" Her eyes smiled at him as his hands settled against the door either side of her head. Being with him like this made her feel safe. The hard planes of his body and the raw emotion in his voice reminded her that it wasn't always the flowery phrases and contrived romantic clichés that conveyed affection and passion and love. Sometimes, most times, it was mere presence and actions. The touch of a hand, a glance across the room, a kiss on the forehead.

"Scare me like that."

"I'm sorry, Pete. But I – " Her arms went from his waist to loop around his neck, the fingers of one hand fiddling with his collar.

" – get bugged when people hang up on you. I know. You told me." The man's lips tilted in a smile.

"I was worried. After I spoke to Lieutenant Jacoby I couldn't stop thinking how strange it was that you didn't say anything when I called you at Mother's. And then when I got there your car was nowhere in sight and the Lieutenant hadn't even arrived yet." The blonde gave an exasperated sigh. "The police station isn't any farther than the hospital. How could I get to Mother's in a cab faster than the police could get there with sirens?"

"You shouldn't have been there at all."

"Pete – "

"We've been over all this before." His voice was calm but his gaze was intense and the tick of the muscle in his jaw telegraphed his feelings as much or more than words ever could. Words didn't always tell the whole story. Words didn't always adequately express the intended message. Sometimes words even said the wrong thing. He might have been surprised to learn how closely those thoughts paralleled Edie's.

The PI sighed, loath to bring to mind images from a job of two weeks ago. Mickey Landon, a mobster who had controlled a large portion of the territory across the river, was dead. He'd been knocked off by the most unlikely of suspects, that mousy male bookkeeper who'd sat cowering in the corner when Pete visited Landon's waterfront office after Edie was threatened. There he'd confronted the two thugs who'd been sent this side of the river to do Landon's dirty work. He'd also given the head hoodlum a blow-by-blow account of what would happen to him personally should he continue his hi-jinx. Landon's sudden death had brought a tidy, if unexpected, resolution to the job Pete had taken on. That was the way things fell sometimes, and he'd received a generous fee for his efforts. But the fact that Landon had used Edie to try to get to him had left a bad taste in the PI's mouth. Edie had not only witnessed his anger that night but also the fear and panic he'd felt at not being there to protect her. All of which had generated a serious conversation between the two several days later.

There were areas of his work that he enjoyed discussing with Edie. But at the same time there were certain other facets he'd rather she never know. Not because he was afraid they might change her feelings toward him or confuse her ideas about what kind of man he was. It was just safer that way, if even just in his own mind. Sometimes there was a fine line between the two, between talking or keeping silent, and he'd learned to step lightly. Other times, well, suffice it to say he'd really rather she not hear about the Mickey Landons of the world. The Al Fusarys. The George Fallons. Maybe even the Dave Greens. Edie Hart was a smart girl though. She usually knew considerably more about what was going on with his "errands" than she let on. And that was okay, as long as she didn't become part of them.

"I need to go." He planted a soft kiss on her nose and then stepped back and helped her off with her coat, her raised eyebrows questioning his statement as he opened the closet door and reached for a hanger. He told her he wanted to stop by Jacoby's office to give his statement and have that over and done with. "After that I'll check in on Mother and Barney at the hospital and take Barney home if they're ready to release him. I also want to pay Mother's insurance agent a visit to find out whether or not her policy will cover the damage. Either way I'll round up a few people and get them working on putting the place back together." He silently concluded it also wouldn't hurt to run home for a quick shower and a clean suit before he did those things.

Edie protested that he should get some sleep before he set out to do anything.

"Tell you what..." He slipped an arm around her waist and steered her along with him as he walked to the door. "I shouldn't be more than a couple hours. How about I come back after and we'll get some sleep together." With his hand on the doorknob he leaned in and touched his lips to hers, then let them drift along her cheek to the side of her neck where they lingered momentarily. "Then later you can scramble up some eggs for supper."

"Sounds like a long nap," the woman smiled. "What if I'm not that sleepy?"

"I suppose we can always find something else to occupy our time."

"Then perhaps you should pick up some extra eggs on your way," the blonde suggested with smiling eyes and a glimmer of smugness. "Just in case you work up a large appetite while we're doing whatever it is we'll be doing." Her smile spread to her lips and became a flirty grin. "You do know eggs are full of protein don't you? They give you energy and help build muscle."

"Uh huh." The PI tried to keep a straight face. "I'll be back."

She said she'd leave the key in an appointed place should she get tired of waiting and decide to go to bed, then with a pointed look watched him down the stairs before slowly closing the door and leaning back against it, her lips turning upward in a knowing smile.

* * *

The amount of time Pete spent at the 13th Precinct giving his official statement seemed to crawl. Sergeant Lee Davis took notes and Jacoby asked a question now and again. Then the PI whiled away thirty minutes or so in the Lieutenant's office, stretched out on the faux leather sofa with a cigarette and the early edition of the _News Standard_, a damp morning breeze drifting through the open window behind him. He heard a squeak from Jacoby's chair and a sigh from the man himself.

"You could have come back later to sign your statement, Pete."

"Trying to get rid of me, Lieutenant?" The PI yawned and reached for the ashtray on the corner of Jacoby's desk to put out his cigarette. He knew by rote the policeman's views about ashes dirtying up the almost pristine cleanliness of his office floor. "Sometimes I get the feeling I'm not welcome here."

"Sometimes?" Jacoby scowled as his pencil lead broke.

"Looks like a rematch of New York and Milwaukee in the World Series." Pete turned to the sports section and then folded the newspaper over on itself and held it closer to get a better look at the baseball standings. "First game is next Wednesday. Should be a good series, the odds-makers can't seem to decide which way to go. You think Milwaukee will repeat this year?"

"I don't have time to watch baseball." The Lieutenant closed the file he was working on with a little snap and carefully laid it aside and seemingly with great patience picked up another. "Some of us have to work for a living. And you don't even have a television set so why do you care?" His eyes never left the papers he was perusing and his voice was exaggeratedly soft.

"I can always join the crowd outside Hampton's Electronics and watch it on the sets in the window," came the PI's mild reply. He sat up as Lee Davis came into the office and handed the file with his statement to Jacoby. "Your sense of congeniality has certainly taken a beating since earlier this morning, Lieutenant." He tossed aside the now neatly folded newspaper.

The policeman scanned the couple of pages and handed the folder to Pete.

"Please sign this and go away."

Pete initialed the top page and scrawled his signature on the second page.

"Cheer up, Lieutenant." The private investigator paused with one hand on the half-open door and turned a mollifying smile at his friend. "Once again the streets of our fair city have been made safe for the people whose inflated taxes so generously pay your salary. And you have another feather in your personal cap."

"If I don't get these reports done and to Captain Clark before I go home the only cap I'll be wearing will be that of a patrolman walking his beat. Now please go."

Barney was waiting in the hall outside Mother's room when the PI found his way to the third floor of City Hospital. The bartender's forehead was wrapped in a bandage and a few dark bruises and scratches were visible on his face and hands but other than that he appeared no worse for wear. He gave a tired smile and a word of thanks when Pete said he'd give him a ride home. The door to 312 swung inward to discharge a floor nurse and an aide carrying an empty meal tray and the two men slipped past into the room.

Mother was sitting up in bed with the covers bunched up around her large form, wearing a light blue standard-issue cotton hospital gown and sporting a morose expression. She brightened considerably upon hearing that Pete had stopped by the main office of State Wide Insurance, which was located on a direct route between the 13th Precinct and City Hospital, and had spoken to her agent, an odd sort named Stanford B. Prim. After much discussion – and some persuasive tactics by the private investigator which he failed to mention to the woman – the agent had generously concluded that the damage caused by the premeditated bombing by certain known criminals would fall under the vandalism rider in her contract. The company would pay for damages less the deductible.

"And then raise my rates again next year," Mother complained in a voice scratchier than usual and with a grim set to her mouth. "Just you wait and see, Pete. They'll find a way to get their money back at my expense."

"Just the way the world turns these days, Mother."

It was twelve-ten by the time Pete made it back to Edie's apartment building on Verbena Street. He closed and locked the car door and stood for a moment, breathing in the fresh rain-cooled air and drinking in the sunshine, then walked the short distance to the front of the building, through the small lobby with its shiny black-and-white checkered floor, up the stairs and to the left on the second floor landing to apartment No. 15.

Wondering if Edie had gone to bed yet, he reached above the door jamb on a line with the knob in search of her door key. And there it was, right where she said it would be. He looked at the little silver-colored piece of metal lying there in his palm, thinking this was the second time she'd left the key out for him in the two weeks since they'd crossed that final line in their relationship. His had been slipped under the mat outside his apartment door the previous Wednesday because he knew he'd be late and had picked up breakfast for them on his way home. Errands to run had kept them apart the previous two nights, the other nights they'd ended up at one or the other apartment. His eyes refocused on he key. He didn't like her leaving it out like that, but supposed it was safer in the middle of the day than at night. He twisted the key in the lock and went in, closed the door behind himself and attached the chain.

He found her asleep with the covers pulled half up, a light blue nightgown exposing the soft skin of her bare shoulders, her face buried between the two pillows. Pete pulled the window blind the rest of the way down to further dim the room, erasing the bright bars of sunlight making patterns on the opposite wall. After a visit to the bathroom he quickly and quietly removed his clothes down to his boxers and slipped into bed with her, a tired smile tipping his lips as she mumbled something unintelligible. He shifted and drew her to his chest and pulled the blanket up, his arm wrapping around her to settle beneath her breasts and their legs tangling as he spooned her against him.

"So you finally decided to come back." Her voice was sleepy.

"Things took a little longer than I thought they would."

"I think I'll buy a television set," came her soft muzzy comment a few minutes later.

"What?" Pete lifted his head to give her a puzzled look. "Why?"

"Keep me company the times I have to wait around for you to show up," was her cross murmur. But she was smiling, eyes closed, lashes dark smudges against her cheeks.

He was silent, breathing in her aroma, her hair tickling his nose as his head found the pillow again. He thought how nice it was to simply wrap his arms around her and hold her there in the warm cocoon of bed covers. How nice it was to have someone to call home. He lay with his eyes open, his tired brain winding down from the events of the last hours, thinking about nothing and everything at once. His conversation with Edie, her words from late last night on the dock behind Mother's, lay heavy on his mind. Perhaps heavier than anything that had transpired between then and now. He wondered if she was still awake.

"I do, you know."

"Do what?" Edie turned sluggishly to face him, her arm sliding around his waist and her head coming to rest on his pillow. Her face was so close he could feel her warm breath mingling with his.

"Miss you." He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her tangled hair. "Love you."

"I know you do, Pete. I shouldn't have said those things."

_Pete? You ever miss anybody? I mean really miss 'em? It's a drag. Sometimes when you don't show up I just … Give you a charge to know the poor little girl flipped in spite of all the warnings?… I'm just one of your favorite singers in all the world … I know the type. If I lost my voice you'd hate my guts._

She hadn't meant any of what she'd said, most of her words had been in frustration, some in jest. She had apologized, said she'd been having a bad night. It hadn't been much of an excuse on her part but Pete had taken it in stride. As he always did. More times than not she had to wonder why he put up with her petty jealousies and her occasional resentment of his time spent elsewhere. Maybe he read in her expression some of what she was thinking because he pulled her closer and brushed her lips with a kiss.

"I've never had somebody to really miss, not in the way you mean." His hand found the hem of her bunched-up nightie and slipped beneath it, the warmth of his hand against the bare skin of Edie's back bringing her a shiver. "Not until you. And just saying I love you doesn't begin to cover the way I feel. You're the most important thing in my life and you always will be. I can promise you that's something that will never change." The PI's lips tilted in a self-deprecating smile. "It's a scary thing for a man to realize just how much a woman can mean to him."

"Men don't have a corner on scared." Her lips reached for his and lingered.

"I'll try to do better with the I miss yous and the I love yous."

"A kind word and a tender touch." The blonde returned his smile with a sweet one of her own. She had heard those words somewhere, maybe from Pete himself. For not having a way with words, the man had a way with words. "They mean just as much."

"By the way –" The kiss grew to become a little more personal. "I picked up those extra eggs you wanted."

"Did not." She gasped as Pete deftly pulled the nightgown over her head and tossed his boxers to the floor after it.

"Sure I did." He rolled over and buried his face against her neck. "I stopped at that little all night grocery on Water Street."

"Extra large I hope?"

"Jumbo." The PI lifted his head and gave a wink. "With double yolks if you're lucky..."

* * *

_I pressed through the overflowing re-opening night crowd at Mother's – according to that good woman business had picked up considerably following the week the club had been closed for repairs – and stood for a minute at the railing looking out over the big river. There wasn't much to see in the dark, the stars and moon were covered by clouds and a thin mist was falling, but the sound of waves lapping against the pilings offered respite and refuge from an already busy night. I knew Edie would be out as soon as she finished with her number – the same one she'd been singing that night one of Fallon's boys had set off the dynamite under the building. It's comforting to know that buildings can be rebuilt. Its not so easy with lives. Sometimes it takes things hitting close to home for a man to realize just how lucky he is._

"We never did get around to that steak dinner you said you were going to buy me."

Peter Gunn smiled around a cigarette, the tip glowing orange in the murky darkness as he inhaled and then released a stream of smoke. He snapped his lighter shut and slid it back into his pants pocket, holding the Lucky Strike between thumb and forefinger and leaning against the railing. He smiled at the pretty woman who'd finally found her way outside to join him.

"You mean before the ceiling fell in?"

Edie Hart returned his smile and borrowed his cigarette. She wasn't much of a smoker, occasionally stealing a puff from one of his or very infrequently helping herself from the pack the PI invariably carried in his shirt pocket. She drew her sweater closer across her shoulders and leaned her forearms on the railing. The garment was light blue and soft, enough to warm her shoulders left bare by the sleeveless black dress she wore, and the PI couldn't help but reach out and run a finger along the collar.

"Mmhmm."

"I still have the money saved up if you're still interested," Edie hinted with a flirtatious smile. She returned the cigarette, now painted with her light red lipstick, and watched as Pete took one last draw and dropped the remains into the water below. "Unless you have errands to run." She hoped he didn't and was gladdened when he replied in the negative.

"I'll just find a table at the back and enjoy the evening."

A pleased smile crossed the woman's lips and Pete bent his head to give her a kiss. They finally came up for air at a loud knock and the squeak of the dock door opening. Mother stood in the doorway, her left arm wrapped in its sling, a pretense of shock on her face at catching the younger couple necking. She reminded Edie she was due on stage and then made herself scarce.

"I guess that's my cue," Edie lamented.

The PI watched her to the door, a little smile playing around his mouth.

"Edie."

She paused with her hand on the knob and turned to look at him.

"You'll always be my _very_ favorite girl singer in all the world."

* * *

_(Several sentences of dialogue are borrowed from "The Kill" S1 EP1. No infringement is intended. Reference is made to my story "A Moment Like This", which takes place approximately two weeks prior to this episode.)_


End file.
